"Yeah. I just need to take care of a family matter. I'll be back on Friday for the final briefing about Donahue."
"It'll finally be over Saturday night. I can't wait to see that asshole's face when he realizes he's just dug himself a grave clear to China. Hey, Gail, you're seeing stars after that last round, but you're not gonna know what hit you when you see me in a tux—"
"See you Friday," Ryan muttered before he hung up, not particularly wanting to hear Ramiro as he dug himself his own hole with Gail.
His mother's shop wasn't open yet, but she knew he was coming and was at the door before he ever knocked.
"Is something wrong?" she asked as he leaned down and kissed her cheek.
"Has the traditional greeting gone the way of handwritten letters and eight-track tapes?"
he asked in amusement, thinking of Ramiro on the phone a moment ago. His smile faded slightly when he recognized the truth of what he'd said for Hope and him last night.
Forget "How are you feeling on this chilly fall evening in the year 1906, Miss Stillwater?" and move straight to hand jobs and blistering orgasms.
As a detective Ryan knew the world was a strange place. But thanks to Hope, he was learning it was much more bizarre than he'd previously thought. And if it turned out he wasn't in fact delusional, and what he planned actually occurred, he was about to discover the world was even more strange than he'd ever imagined.
Ryan became aware that his mother regarded him worriedly.
"Everything is fine. I'm just going to be hard to reach for the next day or two so I wanted to warn you."
Eve Daire's tawny eyebrows rose on her forehead. "Are you go-ing undercover again?"
Ryan didn't answer for a moment as he glanced around his mom's boutique. He could tell her business was thriving by the amount of stock on the racks. His mother was a talented dress designer al-though she carried more than her own products in the store. It had taken her ten years to get the balance just right between creating her own designs, marketing and selling them in a bustling Internet business and also running her own boutique where she showcased not only her dresses but those of a few other designers she intimately knew and respected. She had a loyal and growing customer base. "I guess you could say that," he murmured evasively. "I'll be back by Thursday evening at the latest. I'll give you a call when I return to the land of the living."
Eve frowned and crossed her arms over her tailored suit jacket. "That's not very funny, Ryan."
"Sorry, Mom," he muttered sheepishly when he realized what he'd said. His mother had never grown as comfortable as his father had about him becoming a cop. She worried about him incessantly. "It's not going to be dangerous. It's not what you're thinking."
Nobody would be thinking what you're planning to do, Ryan thought wryly. And if it wasn't precisely dangerous to try to travel backward 102 years, it sure as hell wasn't a ride on the kiddy merry-go-round, either.
When he noticed that his mother's forehead continued to crinkle with concern, he gave her a hug. SheJaughed at his impulsive act of endearment and gave him a healthy squeeze in return.
"I always forget how big you really are until I wrap my arms around you," she said a second later as she gazed up at him fondly. "Your father was the same way. Ryan, are you still worried about accepting the house Alistair left you?"
Ryan sighed. He really needed to work on his poker face. Then again, he could never hide his worries very well from his mother.
"There's just... something so strange about him giving it to me."
"What do you mean?" his mother asked, obviously sensing Ryan meant something beyond the obvious.
Ryan hesitated, not sure how to put into words the haunting, watchful atmosphere of the Prairie Street mansion, the bizarre yet strangely right circumstances of having gained ownership of it.
"You have to admit, Mom, it's over-the-top generous on Alistair's part. That property is worth millions."
Eve ruffled his hair before she stepped back. "He wanted to do it, Ryan."
He glanced at his mother in mild surprise. He'd become friends with Alistair Franklin while he was a student at the University of Chicago. Alistair had been a professor of history who was well known among the students for his charismatic personality and entertaining lectures. Alistair had taken an instant liking to Ryan and the feeling had been mutual. Ryan had ended up doing a senior thesis with Alistair as his counselor. Their friendship had only grown after Ryan graduated, went to law school and eventually joined the ranks of the Chicago Police Department. Ryan's father had passed away two years ago, but while he'd been alive Alistair had also grown close with both of his parents.
Still, he was
surprised to hear his mother had been talking to Alistair about the mansion.
"When have you seen Alistair?"
"We speak on the phone every few weeks, ever since he had his stroke," Eve explained.
"He can't get around like he used to, but we both know what a social person Alistair is.